


No Lie

by paper_back_writer



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Angst, Consensual Sex, M/M, With A Twist, detective!jared, hooker!jensen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-07
Updated: 2016-03-07
Packaged: 2018-05-25 06:55:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6185023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paper_back_writer/pseuds/paper_back_writer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen can't believe his luck when the dark blue sedan pulls up. Until he sees who's in it.</p>
<p>Written for smpc.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Lie

Jensen can't believe his luck when the dark blue sedan pulls up. Until he sees who's in it.

It's fucking freezing. Luckily, the spot he and Chris work from is out of the wind. He feels sorry for the girls around the corner, wearing next to nothing under the moth-eaten fur coats their management so generously allowed them to keep on; as long as they kept them open for the slow parade of curb crawlers running their headlights over them. At least, he gets to wear pants.

Not that they provide much protection in this weather; cold fingers of night air penetrated the thin leather hours ago. Maybe if there was a sliver of air between the leather and his skin he might have felt a little warmer, but they were so tight there was no chance. He thanked Heaven that he'd decided to shove a rolled up sock in his crotch; it was the only thing stopping his balls from dropping off.

Part of him wondered why they were bothering tonight. A couple of the girls had been picked up, but there hadn't been so much as a nibble in their quarter. Not even any of Chris's regulars had shown up. And he always did well on a Friday night. Hell, he did well every night; laying on that thick southern drawl, as he tipped back his battered cowboy hat and chewed on a toothpick. It was mesmerizing. Christ, Jensen would do him if he could afford it. But instead, they both stood there shivering under the street lamp's mocking glow, pulling their jackets close over the thin, clinging t-shirts beneath, and praying for the sun to rise, or Prince Charming to show up.

So, yeah, that blue sedan looks like it could be the prince in question. The window rolls down as Jensen walks over, trying his best not to shiver when he allows his jacket to fall open to show the way his nipples have hardened in the cold. The jacket's a little ridiculous – it's an old letterman's jacket that he found in a goodwill store – but it works. He looks a lot younger than he is – he’s twenty-five but with the right clothes and the right light he can pass for seventeen on a good day. Young sells, so he figured it couldn't hurt. The first time some guy asked him to wear nothing but the jacket, he figured it was worth the twenty bucks. By the time the tenth guy asked him, it creeped him out.

When he leans on the open window of the car, he goes from thinking he might make his rent, to hoping he's going to make it back in one piece.

"You working?" The guy's beautiful but his face is like thunder and practically growls out the words.

Jensen raises his eyebrows and nods at the gold badge glinting on the guy's belt. "Are you?"

The badge clatters into the glove compartment with a flurry of cursing. "Just get in the fucking car."

Jensen hangs his head, then dutifully opens the door and gets in. He sees Chris step forward, looking worried but Jensen nods and smiles, trying to reassure him, even if he's already thinking it's a bad idea.

As soon as he closes the door, the guy hits the gas and pulls away with his tires screaming. Jensen glares and fumbles with the seatbelt. "You in a hurry, Detective?" When he gets no answer he swivels in his seat to take a look, while he warms his hands on the hot air blowing from the vents in the dash.

The guy looks exhausted, and on edge. His eyes are deep set in dark rings, his skin pale. His body is slumping, but his fingers beat out a tattoo on the steering wheel like he's got caffeine instead of blood keeping him upright. His dark hair is curled behind his ears, the strands lank and greasy from the repetitive motion to keep them there. His suit is rumpled and unpressed, much like the rest of him.

"Bad day?"

The guy doesn't say anything, just grips the wheel tighter. Jensen's about to start his spiel, when finally the guy awkwardly stutters out, "Do you have...is there a...where's your–"

"No." The word seems to take the guy by surprise, and he chances an infuriated glance or two at Jensen. Jensen stands – or rather, sits – firm, and folds his arms across his chest. "I'm not fucking a cop in parked car under a fucking bridge somewhere tonight." The detective looks outraged, then accepting. Jensen figures it's tiredness rather than lack of discretion for the guy to think of something so stupid. "Your place or mine, I don't much care which. Or drop me back on the corner."

The cop's apartment is a mess. Jensen can't quite believe his eyes, and he squatted with Chad in a crack house for three months. There are clothes and rotting half-empty takeout containers strewn about the place. There’s a thick layer of dust on every surface, and an ungodly smell coming from the kitchen. The coffee table seems to have some police reports open on it, showing crime scene photos and mugshots. When Jensen wanders over there, they're slammed shut suddenly with a mountain of New York's finest standing guard over them.

Jensen hears a weird noise. He lifts his foot, peels the sticky candy wrapper off the sole of his sneaker, and holds it out. "Is it the maid's week off, Detective, or–?"

"Don't keep...Jared. Just call me Jared." Jared reaches out and takes the wrapper, adding, "Please."

Jensen smiles and hopes it looks alluring. He shrugs off his jacket and throws it on the arm of the couch, next to a stained pillow and rumpled blanket. He thinks he's subtle when he sneaks a peek at his watch, but he's obviously not subtle enough.

"How much for the night?"

The question takes Jensen by surprise. He shakes his head. "You can't be serious?"

Jared pulls out his wallet, takes out a bundle of cash and puts it on the coffee table. It's so high it spills down like a landslide. "How much for the night?"

Jensen looks at the money, ignoring Jared as he steps towards him. Not many people match Jensen in height, but he has to look up when Jared hooks his hand around Jensen's neck, and pulls him into a searing, biting kiss.

There's nothing pleasant about it. It's teeth and stale coffee breath, and fingernails biting into the back of his neck, but Jared's paying so Jensen lets it happen. It's not the worst thing he's experienced this week. Still, when Jared releases him and steps away, his face all shame and rejection, Jensen thinks that might be.

The way Jared hangs his head makes something like fury rise up in Jensen. He knows what Jared's thinking, that he's taking advantage of Jensen like all the other perverts out there; the ones that slap his face red raw before they come on it, or make him beg and call them daddy. Jared's standing there full of self-loathing makes Jensen want to slap him. Maybe if the cop wasn't still wearing his gun he might have. Instead, Jensen grabs Jared by the wrists. "I'll stay. But let's get cleaned up first."

The bathroom isn't much better than the rest of the apartment. Jensen resists the urge to offer to disinfect it before they shower, and tries to ignore the layers of dust and scum and filthy underwear on the floor. He doesn't bother trying to be sexy when he removes their clothes, aiming instead for tender. He figures what the guy needs more than anything is a little TLC. And judging by the way Jared seems to come to pieces as Jensen strips them down, he's not wrong.

Jensen's a little afraid that he might have to hold Jared up in the shower, but he seems solid enough when they get under the hot spray. Jensen takes his time soaping Jared down, working his fingers against his tanned, muscular body, and through the dark hair that trails down the center of it. Jensen cleans every inch, slowly and methodically. Every now and again, Jared lifts his hand to brush against Jensen's nipple, or to cup his bicep or ass, but mostly he just stands there, watching in silence, gasping only when Jensen's fingers get close to his crotch.

Jensen saves that until last. He works the lather through Jared's thick dark pubic hair, and around the side of his balls. He smiles a little to himself when Jared opens his legs just a fraction, so Jensen can slide his soapy fingers back to Jared's twitching pucker. He keeps his hand there, alternately working small firm circles over Jared's asshole, or rolling his balls between his fingers.

The other hand soaps Jared's dick. It's half hard, and getting heavier by the second, so Jensen pushes Jared back a step so the spray cascades over his shoulder and washes the soap away. Jensen pulls him forward and goes to his knees in one motion. As soon as Jensen's tongue makes contact, Jared keens above him. He tries to ignore the sounds Jared's making and concentrate on getting his lips around Jared's cock before he comes himself.

He finds he's not so much sucking, as tasting. Jared tastes wonderful. Jensen has a whole slew of skills in the cock-sucking department – he's had to listen to how his mouth was made for it since junior high – but it's like he's forgotten them all. It's pure pleasure to taste Jared, to feel the velvet soft skin in his mouth, the sweet tang of pre-come as his runs his tongue along Jared's slit.

Until he's being yanked to his feet. "Not here." Jared sounds like he's the one that's had a cock down his throat. "Come to bed."

Apart from a few clothes slung over a chair, the bedroom is pristine. It's almost more of a shock than the rest of the place. Jensen half expects Jared to pick him up and throw him onto the bed, but Jared pulls the covers back and waits for Jensen to slide in before joining him.

The bed is cold, almost clammy. Jared scoots right up to Jensen, pressing the line of his firm body against him and starts rubbing Jensen's arms to warm him up. Jared's face is so earnest, Jensen can't bear it. He leans forward and presses his lips to Jared's. Jared freezes, then kisses him back.

It's not like before. It's soft, and chaste in its own way, even though they're naked, and rubbing against each other. Jared's lips are gentle and attentive; he's lightly mouthing, sucking and licking Jensen just the way he likes it. Jensen could spend all night doing that, could probably come from just that, but he senses Jared's tiredness and pulls away. He smiles slightly, feeling strangely awkward. "I've got lube in my pants. I should–"

He starts to move but Jared stops him and flicks open a drawer in the bedside cabinet, producing a tube with a half-hearted flourish.

Jensen takes it and sits up. Jared starts to protest but Jensen pushes him back down on the pillow. He pushes the covers back, and takes a position between Jared's legs, facing away from him. He doesn't do this; putting on a show. At least, he hasn't for a while, so it feels a little embarrassing to start with. But by the time he has three fingers in him, he's forgotten all about that. It helps that he can hear Jared's heavy breathing, and feel his hands kneading his ass cheeks, holding Jensen open with his thumbs to get a better view.

"Christ, Jen."

Jensen turns, his legs shaking with anticipation, and straddles Jared. Jared's hands are shaking too as he holds his straining cock up against Jensen's open hole. Jensen has a moment of panic.

"Jay...if you want to use something..."

"Do you do this with anyone else?"

There's such agony in Jared's face when he asks that question, Jensen can hardly stand it. He looks Jared dead in the eye. "Never. I promise. Never."

With that, Jared lifts his hips. There's a delicious pressure on Jensen's hole before Jared's cock head breaches him. It's been a long time. Jensen had forgotten the sting, and how damn big Jared is. But his lover waits, stroking his back and his thighs until Jensen is ready to move again. It takes a while for Jensen to fully seat himself, then even longer for them to build their momentum. They start in small tentative movements, Jared sliding easily in and out of Jensen, both of them relishing the drag and the sloppy sound they make, moaning in unison with it. When Jensen starts to bounce, his hard, dripping cock bobbing in front of him, Jared wraps both arms around Jensen's waist, and pounds him; tilting his hips to hit Jensen's sweet spot, and make him yelp. And when Jensen comes untouched, Jared milks every last drop out of him before coming himself with a shout, thrusting hard and filling Jensen with everything he has.

˜•˜

"So...bad day?" Jensen is the little spoon, so when Jared doesn't answer, it takes some effort to turn under Jared's heavy arm to look at him.

Jared sighs, knowing he can't get away from it now that Jensen's eyes are on him. "Five-year-old, beaten into a brain hemorrhage for not taking out the trash."

Jensen purses his lips. It was a stupid question. There's never a good day in homicide. "You wanna talk about it?" Jared shakes his head, and pulls Jensen closer, burying his face in Jensen's neck.

Jensen strokes Jared's hair, and kisses his ear before asking, "You wanna tell me why you're sleeping on the couch?"

Jared keeps his head down and shakes it again. Jensen sighs and waits, and eventually Jared deigns to look him in the face. "Because I can't stand it. I can't stand sleeping in here without you."

"Jay, we talked about this–"

"I know, I know–"

"It's called 'deep cover' for a reason–"

"I get it, I do, I just–"

"And if you blow my cover, it's three years work down the drain–"

"They don't suspect you, do they?"

"No...no, of course not."

It's not a lie. Not really. Jensen just doesn't want to explain to Jared how his pimp had suspected him. That he’d found out Jensen gets picked up by a cop once in a while, that part way through the first time him and his goons half-beat Jensen to death after catching him coming out of Jared’s car, the guy realized that Jensen's ass was full of Jared's come. After that, he was quite happy to take whatever money Jared paid Jensen, as long as he got to see the proof. And the indignity of the bastard checking his asshole every time, was offset by Jensen imagining throwing him, and the rest of his people-smuggling friends, in a deep dark hole forever.

"How much longer?" Jared always asked.

"Six months. Maybe a year." Jensen had been saying that for almost two years now.

Jared pulls him in, kissing his husband hard, then snuggling close, and closing his eyes, looks rested for the first time all night. "And then no more. This is the last assignment, right?"

"Yes...this is the last time." That's not a lie either. Not really.


End file.
